


Bitten

by LuminousCorruption



Category: Political RPF - UK 21st c.
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, British Politics, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Kink, Kink Meme, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuminousCorruption/pseuds/LuminousCorruption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for lolitics prompt. George Osbourne enjoys being bitten, and Mandelson is only too happy to satisfy his craving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitten

George shivered as Peter's arms wrapped around his waist, despite their warmth. Peter's chin was resting on his shoulder, his hot breath ghosting over his neck as Peter nuzzled into it.

"Ready, darling?" George didn't know. His knees felt weak and his head was pounding as Peter pulled George even tighter into him. He moaned, a half-sound that could have been a no.

"Oh? That is a pity." And without warning, Peter sunk his teeth into the back of George's neck. George whimpered as a thousand fiery pinpricks flooded his skin before pooling into white hot pleasure.

"Yes, you do enjoy that, don't you." George couldn't reply; Peter's hands were running over his body. One travelled south to unbuckle his belt and slide down his trousers, toying with the straining fabric over George's erection whilst the other slid underneath a crisp white shirt to slide over soft flesh and roll a hardened nipple between its fingers.  
And all the while, Peter's mouth was on his neck, lapping and scraping before the teeth sank in.

"I'm going to hold you down and bite your thighs while you spread your legs for me, and after that I'm going to fuck that beautiful tight arse of yours while my teeth are buried in your throat and you're going to writhe and moan under me like the pretty whore you are. Now how does that sound, love?"

It sounded fucking amazing.

George was getting even harder just from imagining how it would feel. Peter's hands would be heavy on his thighs, pushing them outwards and exposing him while his mouth (oh lord, his mouth) pressed against his hip, small white teeth raking over the taut flesh-

George was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a deep laugh in his ear, and before he knew it he was spun around, thrown onto the bed and his trousers were pulled off.

Peter straddled him, using a hand to hold down both of George's wrists over his head. George looked up at him, eyes wide with arousal and surprise. He was so beautiful like this, doe eyed and vulnerable.

Peter smirked and traced his fingers over George's cheek, down his neck and over his chest to circle one pert, rosy nipple. Underneath him George's eyes widened further and he arched off the bed. Peter lifted his hand away until George sank back down, then returned to skimming over his hip bones, keeping the touch feather-light and torturous.

"How about here? Would you like me to put my mouth on you here? I could suck and scrape at the skin until it bruises purple, marking you while I bring you off with my other hand nice and slowly. Or..."

Peter moved his hand downwards, and cupped George's straining cloth covered cock gently. There was a sharp intake of breath and Peter smirked again, then started rubbing the distended navy cotton.

"Or I could bite through the skin and enjoy the way your blood goes so nicely with your snowy skin, the way it spills over my tongue. And at the same time, my fingers would slip inside of you, slick from your spit, and twist and stretch you until you're all nice and wet and open for me. Would you like that, dearest?"

George gasped as Peter slid down his body and, still massaging his cock, bent over his hip and ghosted his teeth over the bone very gently.

George grabbed onto the headboard with both his hands - he knew better than to move them from where Peter had left them. But his resolve was tested when Peter moved down even further and, yes, with one strong hand still jacking him off and the other slipping inside the edges of his briefs to tease his hole with one spit-covered finger, moved his lips right to the hollow where George's leg met his crotch and - Oh fuck - bit down.

His head rolled back and his spine looked like it was about to snap. Then, with a final choked sob, George came, hot and messy and violent, inside his pants.

No sooner had George collapsed back onto the bed, utterly exhausted, than Peter was lying beside him, gently stroking the hair from his face. George leaned into the touch and Peter lent down to kiss him, tender and simple.

Then Peter getting off the bed and moving to the bathroom. George wanted to complain, but managed only a token whine. Peter just smiled and vanished into the bathroom, merely to return seconds later with a washcloth.

Sitting back down on the bed, he slid George's underwear from his hips and, with the damp towel, gently wiped away the sticky remnants of his pleasure. George couldn't do anything but lie still, dazed and subdued by the afterglow.

When Peter was done he put the cloth in the hamper and lay back beside George's prone figure. George turned towards him, shuffling forwards until their foreheads were pressed together. Peter smiled and began to run his fingers through George's hair again, before setting at the back of his neck, rubbing one thumb possessively over the nape while the other arm curled around his waist and held him close.

"I'm sorry." George whispered, so softly that Peter barely heard it.  
"Whatever for, my dear boy?" Peter asked. George looked down, guiltily.  
"You didn't come." The words were mumbled and even more inaudible than the last. Peter sighed, and moved his fingers under George's chin.

"George, look at me." He didn't. A little more forcefully: "Gideon, look at me."

He did.

"George, I love seeing you happy. I love making you come and I love how you look when you come. You're so beautiful and I-" George flushed and looked down again, embarrassed.  
"No, George, I mean it. As long as I have that, I don't need to come. Besides, you can make it up to me tomorrow, darling."

George seemed to perk up at that and nodded enthusiastically before curling up again, his head under Peter's chin.

And as George succumbed to slumber, Peter ran his fingers through the soft black curls and thanked the Gods for domesticity.


End file.
